


Excrucior

by nahnahnahnah



Category: Mairelon the Magician - Patricia Wrede
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, One-Sided Relationship, Realization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 08:22:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8971672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nahnahnahnah/pseuds/nahnahnahnah
Summary: Richard Merrill has a realization about his ward after a conversation with a young Marquis.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [specialrhino](https://archiveofourown.org/users/specialrhino/gifts).



> Honestly thank you for this request because I have been thinking over and wanting to write this scene for years, and you gave me the push to do it. Had I time enough I'd have written more, but hopefully you like this treat. Happy Yuletide, specialrhino!

Richard Merrill stormed into the library in a high dudgeon after his latest meeting with Kerring. Nearly two _weeks_ of working on the issue of his magic, and they hadn’t made one bit of progress. He threw himself into a chair, ready to work himself into a good sulk.

But his brown study was interrupted by the butler entering with a card. “Lord Franton, Marquis of Harsfeld, wishes to know whether you are at home, sir.”

“Yes, yes, send him in,” Richard said, straightening up and frowning. He’d never hear the end of it from Aunt Agatha if he sent away the young fool, and moreover Mother might be disappointed as well.

“Very good, sir.”

Richard came to his feet and straightened his clothes, turning to the door as it opened.

“Good day, Mr. Merrill,” the young man said, walking forward with a smile.

“Good day, Lord Franton,” Richard responded. They stood awkwardly for a moment before Richard gestured to the chairs. “Will you sit?”

“Yes, thank you,” he answered, somewhat hastily.

“I’m afraid the ladies of the house are out,” Richard said. “I’m sure they’d be much better company than I am.”

“Yes, that is the reason I’ve come,” the boy said. “I have a somewhat delicate question to ask regarding Miss Merrill.”

“Kim? What about her?” Richard said, startled and concerned.

“I wished to speak to you, as her guardian, to request your permission to pay her my addresses.”

Richard stared blankly. He was—was this young idiot actually asking his permission to court Kim? To _marry_ her? _His_ Kim?

The boy seemed to find the silence uncomfortable. “I realize it may be somewhat early in my acquaintance with her; I have no wish to appear hasty, but you must realize Miss Merrill is...really quite charming. I have no doubt she will have other admirers, and I only wish to have the opportunity to plead my case with her, as it were.”

“The choice,” he managed at last, “will be Kim’s. Certainly you may ask her directly.”

The boy grinned, bright and unguarded. There didn’t seem to be a trace of apprehension about what her answer might be in his demeanor. Richard’s stomach swooped unpleasantly. “Thank you, Mr. Merrill. Thank you.” He reached out, and Richard had no choice but to shake his hand.

Once the boy left, Richard sank back down into his chair by the fire. He stared into the flames, his problems with his magic completely forgotten. Kim had admirers? Certainly she must. Why had he never thought of it? Why had he ever thought her coming out would lead to anything other than this?

She was so bright, so vivacious. And smart, so smart, so quick to learn and to adapt, and for all that she held on to the core of herself and it lent her a sense of such self-assurance. And she was certainly charming; more so, Richard felt, when she wasn’t trying, when she wasn’t trying to hold herself to the rules of Society, but doubtless Lord Franton didn’t feel that way.

But Lord Franton didn’t really know her. Not the way he did.

None of these young idiots of Society really knew her. None of them had seen the careful, crafty light in her eyes as she assessed a travelling magician that was more than he seemed, none of them had seen her cautious trust in him that he had worked so hard to live up to. None of them had seen that solidify into the implicit confidence of a student in her teacher, nor been shown affection after weeks of proving themselves worthy of it, of proving they wouldn’t leave her, wouldn’t fail her as so many had before.

None of them gave a damn about her, not really, not the way he did.

He groaned and dropped his head into his hands. Oh. Oh, how long had he been in love with her? And how long had he been so obtuse, so willfully blind about it? Some of Renee’s comments and looks were coming into clearer focus now.

The only redeeming point was that Kim was unlikely to have noticed. She didn’t think of him that way, couldn’t think of him that way. If she’d had the slightest inkling of any untoward feelings on his part, she’d have left. He knew her, and he knew her past, well enough to know that.

But marriage...and marriage to a Marquis at that—that was something altogether different. _Would_ she accept? He’d have thought not, but then, he hadn’t been aware of Kim being the subject of any such attentions from anyone, and the way Lord Franton had been talking, he ought to expect hordes of young men beating down his door to get to her.

He got up abruptly and went to the cabinet, grabbing a bottle of brandy and a glass. He couldn’t imagine now what it would be like to lose Kim. Had it really been only a year? And now a handsome young rich man, a titled man, a man that wasn’t nearly a decade her senior was going to sweep her off her feet. She had shown him some attention, now that he thought about it. He remembered Mother had mentioned it. And Aunt Agatha would be thrilled. It would be a fine match.

He poured a glass of brandy and downed it in a swallow.


End file.
